Our movie group meets in the auditorium at a small Christian university in the South Loop. I can tell by the decor that the room is also a playroom for the afterschool daycare center. (I saw evidence of their "Roaring 20s" dress-up party.)
Before the movie, I always pick up something at their little, onsight coffee shop. I like the fresh-faced college students who work there. I enjoy their tip bottles, which enable us to vote with our change on a burning question of the day: Cubs or Sox, Books or Movies, Toilet paper over or under, etc.
This past Tuesday I ordered a ham/cheese quiche and hot chocolate to take into the movie with me. The young man (19?) who prepared it went out of his way to make milky heart on top of my cocoa for Valentine's Day.
How did I repay him? On the way into the auditorium, I had trouble with the door and splashed hot chocolate on his textbook! I could tell by the cover he was studying The Book of Psalms.
I apologized. He was very kind and showed me that the inside pages were all just fine. I apologized some more, his kindness making me feel even worse. "It's for reading, not for show, and the pages are all fine," he repeated, as I helped him clean up the chocolate.
As I went into the movie he made serious eye contact with me and said, "I've already forgiven you. Now you just have to forgive yourself."
What an extraordinarily sensitive thing for him to say!
It's stayed with me for days.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
My jaw dropped at this wonderful sentiment. How insightful. And compassionate.
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